


i think i've seen you 'round here before

by screechfox



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/screechfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She turns the corner, and Lisa is already dead.</p><p> </p><p>A re-telling of events in the super-market, from Jem's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think i've seen you 'round here before

**Author's Note:**

> so i finally finished watching season 2 yesterday, at long last. at which point i went through the entire ao3 archive and found myself lacking in walker siblings and untreated pds. so i'm creating my own.
> 
> this is the quickest i've written a fic for a new fandom. a short little thing, to test the waters.
> 
> title from 'hello' by martha wheatley.

She turns the corner, and Lisa is dead already.

Jem had sort of realised. From the deathly silence, punctuated by her gunshots, and the groans of rotters. There was only the tiniest chance that Lisa was okay. Bill would be screaming at Jem, to just get out before the rotters get her too.

But Bill’s a heartless old sod. Always has been, always will be. And Jem just… needed to be sure.

There were a lot of rotters. Lisa thought it was like a hunting pack, the way the things banded together. Jem recited their heated debate in her head as she stepped slowly down the aisle. She’d never thought they were smart enough, personally - just corpses moving around again, and attacking anything breathing.

But there _were_ a lot of them, smart or not. Her shots echoed in her brain, like the footsteps against the hard floor of the supermarket.

She turns the corner, around the white shelves unmarked by blood, and there’s two more crouched over Lisa’s body, picking at it like carrion.

It’s her last few bullets before she has to reload, but Jem knows she’s a good shot. Close range, like this, it’s child’s play. Like the target practice they gave her on the first day of training.

The gun gleams in the low light as she lifts it. She has to squint to aim it right, at the exact spot that’ll kill a rotter dead for good. The other one glances up at her, skirts pulled around its legs, before going back to eating.

(When she will meet Amy, after the end of this war, Jem will look at her pin-prick eyes, and want to throw up.)

The other turns, alerted to her presence. It’s slow, almost relaxed. Jem knows she should just shoot now, but something about the shape of the jacket-- Anyway, it’ll be just an easy target whether it’s facing towards her or away.

They’re not quick enough to lunge, she tells herself. 

It turns, movements jerky in a way she still hasn’t quite gotten used to - a puppet with the strings cut. And something catches in her throat, cold and unforgiving, a sound she won’t let out.

Oh, _Kieren_.

Jem doesn’t know how she recognises him first. The stupid hoodie that she’d insisted he be buried in, because he always hated drawing attention to himself. The hair - messy, and grimy, but still styled in the exact same way.

His dumb face, rotting and covered in her girlfriend’s blood. His glass cheekbones (fragile, but sharp), his long eyelashes, and-- a mouth smeared with Lisa’s brains.

A rotter is a rotter, Jem reminds herself, even as her gun wavers. A rotter is a rotter.

She raises her gun to take the shot. Kieren’s beyond all hope now.

The other rotter glances up again as it keeps picking at Lisa’s dead body. There’s a flower clipped into its hair - grubby, but still pinned with precision.

A rotter is a rotter. It’s not Kieren anymore. His friend-- _Its_ friend, is not a person anymore. Jem breathes out.

The absence of a shot is almost as bad as an actual shot. Silence rings in her ears. She lowers her gun.

Shoes squeaking, she turns on her heel, and runs for the exit. There’s no sounds of pursuit, just familiar groans - low, animal sounds.

Jem doesn’t have any supplies. Her hands move without her asking to, and she slips her remaining bullets into her pocket. Bill will get less mad if she shows up with a gun and no bullets. She rushes back to base, and stammers out a half-hearted explanation.

She sits down. She cries for Lisa and she cries for Kieren, as Bill tuts at her sadness and wipes down her gun.

She will not cry for herself until years later, leaning against her brother’s cold chest.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at screechfoxes on tumblr


End file.
